Ill be home for christma.., p.11
I'll Be Home For Christmas, page 11
With Marian missing and a less-than-jolly elf standing in her place next to an unusually happy Kris Jingle, he had to consider it a possibility that someone he cared about might be out of his life forever.
Feeling the unwanted emotions welling up inside him, Winston straightened his back and turned briskly on his heel, heading off in the opposite direction of Santa’s workshop. There were more inspections to be made, and he couldn’t stand there feeling sorry for himself or anyone else.
Just as he was leaving, the sight of a grown woman dropping into Santa’s lap made him pause for a moment. Rolling his eyes at the inappropriate behavior and tempering his rising annoyance, Winston made the conscious choice to let it go.
He had bigger things to worry about, especially with an elf that looked as though she’d been sucking on lemons wishing the kids an unenthusiastic Merry Christmas then shooing them away.
“We’ve got to find Marian and bring her home,” he muttered under his breath. “Wherever she is, we’ve got to get her back.”
*
“You make a very handsome Santa,” Carol crowed as she plopped into Kris’s lap.
Heat crept up the back of Kris’s neck. “What are you doing here,” he whispered through a smile.
Carol smiled back and nuzzled into Kris’s white hook-on beard. “To give you my Christmas list of course.”
Over her shoulder, Kris could see Winston standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. Clearly Carol’s appearance at Santa’s Workshop wasn’t something the General welcomed.
“What time do you get finished here?” Carol asked, pulling away slightly. “Because what I want for Christmas is dinner with you tonight.”
Pulling the arm that was encircling Carol’s waist toward him, he checked his watch. “I’ve still got a few more hours. Dinner tonight sounds perfect, though.”
“Good.” Carol stood and stooped over to drop a quick kiss on Kris’s lips. “Call me when you’re finished here.”
Resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her and pull her in for a deeper kiss, he winked and promised he would. He watched Carol’s back as she walked away, then looked back toward the line of children. Behind them, he could see Winston’s lips moving. Who he was talking to, Kris didn’t know, but whatever he was saying, he seemed angry and determined.
I hope it’s nothing more than Winston just being Winston, Kris thought as the next child in line walked up to him and scooted onto his lap. Whatever was bothering him, though, seemed to be serious.
Chapter Forty-Four
Joe and Eli rolled their eyes and shook their heads as they listened to Fred Rooney describe the man who’d been in the store the day before buying ingredients for Marian’s top-secret, one-of-a-kind hot buttered rum.
“You don’t understand,” Fred countered when they told him a drink recipe wasn’t enough to go on. “Marian has come through my checkout lane dozens of times over the years, and every Christmas I hear her talk about her recipe and how she’d never had any quite like it. She’s very proud of her addition of dried cranberries and cinnamon sticks to her rum. There’s no way this guy would have known about her recipe unless she told him about it. I think he has Marian.”
Joe bit his lip in an effort to keep himself from telling Fred that his theory was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Eli scratched his jawline where stubble had emerged from a few missed days of shaving. More patient and more willing to give people the benefit of the doubt than Joe, Eli said, “Now, Mr. Rooney. You have to admit that there’s always a possibility that someone else had the same idea about making hot buttered rum that Marian did. Cranberries and cinnamon sticks aren’t exactly unusual ingredients during the holiday season. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I guess so,” Fred agreed after several seconds of silence. “I just don’t see how it can be a coincidence, though.”
Joe gave an encouraging nod to Eli as he continued, “It might not be a coincidence. Maybe this guy you’re talking about does have her. But how do we find him? Do you know who he is? Do you know where he’s staying? What about the car he’s driving? Without this information, we have nothing to go on.”
“But—” Fred began to argue but was cut off immediately.
“We appreciate your willingness to pass along this information,” Joe said in an uncharacteristically gentle voice, “but until we can answer more of those questions, we are no closer to finding her than we were before.” Joe thanked him, then pressed the button to end the call.
“I guess we should expect some wild theories,” Eli said, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the edge of Joe’s desk.
With a scowl, Joe shoved Eli’s still-damp boots to the floor and said, “Maybe it’s not a wild theory. Maybe Fred Rooney is on to something. He’s gotten to know most of the people in Saddle Hill through his checkout line. The problem is, we don’t have any idea who this guy is or where he’s staying. Even if he’s our guy, without any more information we’re no closer to finding Marian than we were last night.”
As the two frowned and shook their heads at the frustration of not being able to find their friend, the phone rang again. “We need a switchboard operator,” Joe huffed as he picked up the receiver. After an initial greeting, he listened to what the caller had to say before bidding them goodbye and hanging up.
“What’s up?” Eli asked, leaning forward, his instinct telling him something was going on.
“That was Henry Feinstein’s lawyer. He’s bringing Henry by the station this morning to talk to us. Apparently he’s got some stuff he wants to get off his chest.”
“Good. Maybe we’ll find out if he had anything to do with Marian’s disappearance,” Eli said hopefully.
Despite the hope in Eli’s voice, Joe couldn’t shake the feeling that if they didn’t find something soon, Marian’s time was going to run out.
Chapter Forty-Five
Marian puttered around the old farmhouse, tidying and polishing things the best she could to pass the time. Vito had gone upstairs a couple hours before, and without having him as company, she stayed busy by trying to make the place look respectable.
The more she polished and rearranged things, the more she saw what a charming house it really was. Despite the musty old furnishings, in different circumstances, she could see herself being happy here.
At the sound of footsteps behind her, she straightened and turned around to face a freshly shaved man who bore little resemblance to the unkempt, rough-around-the-edges character she’d been getting to know.
“What happened to you?” Marian said, feeling how wide her eyes were but unable to make them go back to their normal size.
Vito rubbed his chin. “You like it? I thought it was time for a fresh start, and what better way to do that than start with a good shave?”
Setting the rag down that she was using to polish the nicked and scratched furniture, Marian placed her hands on her hips. “You look like a different person. I don’t think I realized what a handsome young man you are.”
A light shade of pink crept up Vito’s neck. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that. I’ve been hiding behind a beard for so long, I’d forgotten what I even look like without it.”
Marian tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at Vito, a rush of motherly affection rippling through her. Poor guy, Marian thought. It sounds like he’s had such a rough go of it. First growing up with a father that belittled him, then having a wife that took up with some big-city lawyer, then losing his job. That’s enough to drive anybody to desperation.
Chewing the inside of her lip, a plan formed in her mind. Though she’d only known Vito for two days, their forced proximity to one another made it feel longer, and she’d developed an unexpected fondness for her kidnapper.
Oh gracious, Marian thought. I’ve developed Stockholm Syndrome.
Shaking the thought away, she wondered what she could do to brighten Christmas for him. He’d already made it clear that just having her company made it the best Christmas season he’d had in years. A fresh stab of compassion made her realize that she wanted to do more than just provide company. Though she hadn’t had a choice in being here, she could make the choice to make this a wonderful Christmas for him even though she couldn’t be at home with her loved ones.
Grow where you’re planted. Roger’s words again echoed in her mind. Considering the snow and blustery winds, Marian found it more than ironic that something Roger used to say in reference to gardening kept slamming into her mind.
“What? You look like you’re up to something,” Vito said warily, still rubbing his smooth face.
Marian could almost feel her eyes twinkle, a quality that made her a fantastic elf. “I’m just planning a little Christmas surprise, that’s all.”
Vito’s mouth drooped. “You’re not planning on running off, are you? Because that wouldn’t be a good surprise. It might turn out to be a death sentence for both of us.”
Rolling her eyes, Marian replied, “There’s no need to be so dramatic. No, I’m not planning to run off. I do need to spend a little time in the barn, though.”
Vito shook his head firmly. “No way. It’s too cold out there for you to be hanging out in a drafty old barn. That’s why I let you in the house in the first place. Besides, if I let you go out there, what’s the guarantee that you won’t try to get away?”
Marian felt the corner of her mouth droop. “I give you my word that I won’t try to run away. I’m not stupid and I don’t have a death wish. I don’t know where I am, and look at the weather. I’d freeze to death out there. If it makes you feel any better, you can come with me and keep an eye on me the whole time,” she urged.
Vito frowned. “But it’s freezing out there.”
“I know,” Marian said, holding her breath and hoping Vito would agree to let her.
Several beats passed before Vito finally agreed. “Fine. But I’ll have to keep you in my sight. Consider it health insurance for both of us.”
“Agreed,” Marian sighed, her hope soaring. She’d be able to do something to let Vito know he mattered to somebody. That’s what he really needed this Christmas: to know somebody cares.
“Let me go change.” Vito’s eyes scanned the clothes Marian had been wearing for the past two days. The pants had spots of food on them and the Christmas sweater, complete with colorful puff balls hanging loosely from the boughs of a Christmas tree, was rumpled from being slept in. “I’ll see if I have something warmer you could wear.”
As Vito walked from the living room in the direction of his bedroom, Marian reminded herself that Vito seemed to have a good heart, kidnapping aside. He was just a man that had hit hard times and made a bad choice because of it. Her gut told her he’d never hurt her.
“Try this on,” he said when he returned a couple minutes later. He was holding a thick flannel shirt and wool socks. “I’m afraid those pants will have to do,” he said, nodding toward her stained ones.
Marian slipped the flannel shirt on over her sweater and the socks over her own, tucking the legs of her pants into them. With the shirt falling to just above her knees and her hands lost inside the sleeves, she felt the way she did when she used to put on her dad’s flannel shirts as a kid. He’d laughed at her and said she’d have some growing to do if she ever wanted to fill them out.
An amused smile dancing on Vito’s face, he said, “Looks like I’m a little bigger than you. At least it will help keep you warm… at least down to your knees.”
Stuffing her feet into the snow boots she’d worn Christmas caroling two days before and pulling on her winter coat, she hoped she’d find something in the barn she could use. As the two trudged through the snow, Marian relished the fresh air whipping against her face. This was the first time she’d been out of the house in two days, and even though it was well below freezing, she vowed to soak up as much of the cold, clean air that she could before she was shut away again.
As they walked toward the barn, she began singing “I’ll Home for Christmas,” and was surprised when Vito completed the line in a clear tenor voice. “… if only in my dreams.”
A dull ache settled in Marian’s midsection.
Right now, being home for Christmas really did seem like it would only happen in her dreams.
Chapter Forty-Six
In the center of Whipple’s Wicks, a small group of people gathered, murmuring to one another excitedly as Carla rang up the final customer before she closed the shop.
Thanks to an email blast she’d sent to everyone she knew, the search party Carla had vowed to assemble had shown up, and they were all eager to get started in their search for everyone’s favorite Saddle Hill citizen.
Quickly ushering the straggling customer out of the store with a cheerful, though rushed, “Merry Christmas,” Carla flipped the sign on the door over to say “Closed” and locked the door so no one else could come in.
With a sigh, she turned toward the group and said, “I’m so glad you all could be here. Marian has been a friend to us all, and now she needs our help. She’s always been there for us when we needed her, now we have the opportunity to repay the favor. Though our very capable sheriff’s department is looking for her, there are just too many remote places in Saddle Hill for them to cover by themselves. With all of us working together, I’m sure we can have her home for Christmas.”
“But how will we know where to start?” a voice chimed out from the middle of the crowd. All heads turned toward the man who was speaking.
“Winston!” Carla gasped. “I’m so glad you could make it.” He was the last person she expected to see and had second thoughts about even sending the email to him. Not known for displaying any sort of warmth to others, she couldn’t believe he’d actually show up to help find Marian, especially during business hours. She didn’t think he cared about anything other than the almighty dollar. Carla gave herself a mental shake. Everyone loved Marian, and that included Winston Marshall. As tough as he tried to appear, even he couldn’t help but like Marian.
Sylvia Bell flashed a quick smile at Winston, then, emerging from the group, replied, “I think we can all agree that no stone should be left unturned in our search for Marian. Carla has called us together because as a group, we’re stronger than we are as individuals. Instead of feeling overwhelmed, let’s listen to Carla and hear what she has to say.”
Carla shot Sylvia a grateful look and cleared her throat. “While it’s true that there are a lot of out-of-the-way places in our town, who better to look in those places than people who live here. Looking around the group, I see several of you that live in the more rural areas of Saddle Hill. Those are just the people we need searching the more remote areas.” Glancing around the search party, Carla pointed toward three people standing around the edge of the group. “I know you guys live farther out. You’ll be one group, and I’ll have you search the areas at the north side of Saddle Hill that aren’t as familiar to those of us who live closer to town.”
Carla was rewarded with a nod of agreement from the trio, who then turned to leave.
“Please contact me or the sheriff’s department if you find anything,” she called after them as they flipped the lock and walked out of the store. Turning her attention back to the group, she said, “We’ll need a few more people to check the more wooded areas on the east side.”
Sylvia raised her hand. “Holly, Nadine, and I have already been through there, but couldn’t do a thorough check. I’d be more than happy to go again,” she volunteered.
“Sounds good. Take Holly with you, but I’d be too worried to send Nadine out there. Make sure you have snow tires, and don’t forget to pack food, water, and blankets just in case you get stuck out there,” Carla suggested, as she set about the task of splitting the rest of the search party into smaller groups.
Within twenty minutes, everyone knew where they were supposed to be looking. Feeling satisfied that she was actually doing something to help bring Marian home, Carla inhaled the seasonal fragrances filling her candle shop. As she looked at the candles filling the shelves, she had an inspiration for a new Christmas scent. In honor of Marian, it would be scented with cranberry, orange, and cinnamon with just a hint of rum.
The name of the candle would be “Home For Christmas.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Accompanied by his lawyer, Henry Feinstein sat at the table in the interrogation room at the sheriff’s station.
“So, Feinstein, are you here to confess to doing something to Marian Bright?” Joe asked, a hard edge to his voice.
Henry Feinstein started to object, but his lawyer, a small man with round glasses and a receding hairline, cut him off. “Let me begin by saying that we’re here against my recommendation. I don’t believe anything good will come from Henry speaking to you, but he insists.”
“Maybe he’s smarter than he looks,” Joe muttered under his breath.
Eli shot Joe a disapproving look, then said, “We’re glad you’re here, Mr. Feinstein, and we’re very interested in hearing what you have to say.”
A wary look on his face, Henry cleared his throat and began, “First of all, I want to say I don’t have anything to hide. I admit my past is a bit… checkered, but I wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
Eli shuffled through a small stack of papers on the table in front of him. “That’s odd, considering that one of your arrests was because you assaulted someone.”
Henry splayed his hands in front of himself and protested, “I’d never do that if I was in my right mind. That was the bottle.”
“I suppose the bottle just jumped into your hand and the booze forced its way down your throat.” Sarcasm dripped from Joe’s voice.
Henry’s head dropped, shame on his face. “I haven’t felt like myself since my wife died. It hurt so much, I just had to make it stop. That’s when I started drowning my sorrows.”
